


if i had a heart

by myrnin



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blowjobs, M/M, Unhealthy Relationships, and maybe a bit possessive, jonah just loves the attention, mordechai is jealous, rip to barnabas but jonah loves the beholding more
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:28:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24743860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myrnin/pseuds/myrnin
Summary: My dear Jonah,You must help me. If anyone is still here, it is you. I know your work brings you into contact with all sorts of fantastical terrors, so perhaps you might have it within your power to save me from this place. And it was you who warned me not to cross Mordechai Lukas.Maybe there was more to Mordechai's decision than settling a debt and Jonah has to face the consequences of that.
Relationships: Barnabas Bennett/Jonah Magnus, Mordechai Lukas/Jonah Magnus
Kudos: 23





	if i had a heart

_My dear Jonah,  
You must help me. If anyone is still here, it is you. I know your work brings you into contact with all sorts of fantastical terrors, so perhaps you might have it within your power to save me from this place. And it was you who warned me not to cross Mordechai Lukas._

A small, jewel-encrusted letter opener lay still on Jonah’s desk, next to the carefully sliced open envelope bearing Barnabas’ name. Jonah’s fingers tapped restlessly against the mahogany wood, reading the rushed curved lines over and over again, a litany of differing scenarios rushing through his head. 

Strands of hair had fallen into his face, somewhat obfuscating his view which was the least of his concerns - he had already memorized each word, imagining Barnabas hunched over this exact desk, desperately asking for help, utterly alone and terrified. Seeing every detail, his locks falling over his shoulder as he leaned in closer, the slight crease on his forehead as he furrowed his brows in despair. A pretty picture if anything and Jonah wanted, needed to see more of it. 

The thrill of being privy to such sights, to a man’s last moments that no one but him would witness sent a shiver down his spine and just for now, he didn’t think to question how the image had formed itself in his mind but simply committed every little detail to memory - the soft curve of Barnabas’ nose, a smattering of freckles he had already grown fond of, his clothes in a state of disarray speaking volumes of his mental state. 

The name Mordechai Lukas rang out in his head still, managing to taint the moment he had been so carefully savoring. His expression turned sour. He found it incredibly hard to believe a small debt had to be repaid with such drastic measures; but Lukas committed to his work in ways even he tended to find mysterious. And so he found it unsavory to address the matter over letter - frankly, more arguments were to be made for ignoring it altogether. The desperate pleas of Barnabas didn’t leave him utterly unaffected after all and he knew his absence would hurt him dearly but then again: when else would he have the opportunity to watch someone he cares about waste away so slowly and intimately? Too many questions filled his head again and he took to chewing on one of his pens, a nasty habit which he thought had been kicked years ago.

Barnabas tended to cover his mouth whenever he smiled; his clothing often lacked tact and was more often than not inappropriate for the occasion; he tended to get too cocky during whatever games they had entertained themselves with during the evening - all qualities which had been noted and dismissed were now sorely missed and Jonah found himself distracted throughout the day far too often, mind wandering to Barnabas and his current state and whereabouts and he was wholly displeased how much it had affected him. 

Truly, he was never intended to be more than a distraction, a petty one at that. Entertaining enough by himself, charming and sweet - and Jonah enjoyed the company of someone similar to him even in the smallest, most meaningless ways. He was also far too eager, inviting himself over to Magnus’ home too often, ignoring manners and simply assuming he was welcome.

He usually was too, which surprised even Jonah himself at times. But it was quite easy to lose himself in his company and equally easy to long for it once he was forced to depart. What had started out as a simple distraction with soft edges and a boisterous laugh ended up as a treasured companion - which also provided the additional benefit of annoying Lukas. 

Not only did the personalities of the two men clash horribly, the scathing looks Jonah had felt on the back of his neck whenever he and Barnabas so much as sat next to each other further reaffirmed him in spending his leisure time with the man whenever possible. Along the way he had found himself treating it as much more of a pleasure than he had originally planned. Barnabas was a great listener and it seemed that the more Jonah regaled him with tales about his field of work, the more the man seemed to view him as an indestructible beacon of knowledge. Jonah couldn’t have complained - and now that he was stripped of that particular amusement, his mood had soured significantly.

He had considered how to approach Lukas about the situation - if he even should. And if he did, what would he say? Would he be angry seeing the man again, knowing he was the one responsible for ridding their world of Barnabas’ presence? How would Mordechai even react? They hadn’t had much contact since Jonah had started entertaining Barnabas at his house - even their usual correspondence had come to a stop - and now the situation had turned somewhat more complicated. All those questions were once more present in his mind as he arrived at yet another semi-formal clubhouse meeting organized by their mutual acquaintances. 

He was half-hoping not to see him there but the second he crossed the threshold, he was painfully aware of his presence somewhere in one of the rooms. So throughout the evening he kept an eye out, skillfully meandering through the crowds and their inquiries, laughing tactfully at the right moments and keeping his eyes peeled. Somehow, Mordechai managed to avoid his gaze the whole time and at that point Jonah had started to doubt his senses, especially as everyone began to funnel out of the estate, bidding each other farewell and well wishes, hoping for another swift reunion. Jonah found himself lingering near the exit, engaging almost everyone in conversation as a meager excuse for staying well past when he intended to leave. 

His coat was handed to him as he resigned himself to leaving the party alone; only a few steps out of the manor did he realize the man who had helped him get dressed and was walking by his side was, in fact, Mordechai. Jonah flinched in surprise and craned his neck to get a good look at his face and was perhaps unsurprised to find him staring off into the distance, refusing to make any eye contact whatsoever. 

There was something different about the Lukas patriarch - though nothing had changed in his physical appearance. Still the same striking dark hair streaked with grey, sharp grey eyes which refused to acknowledge you; the only thing that stood out were the subtle changes in which he carried himself. His shoulders were pulled as taut as a strained bow, his hands held tight behind his back. Mordechai felt as though he was barely holding back something and yet, he didn’t seem keen on acknowledging it as he simply strode forward, clearly expecting Jonah to follow. 

He hadn’t even realized he stood still in his tracks for a few seconds and he jogged over to Mordechai’s side, steering the pair back to his house, too curious for his own good about what it was that the man had planned. His estate wasn’t too far away so he hadn’t arranged for a carriage which he was now beginning to regret as it had started to snow. He never handled the cold too well and he felt his cheeks getting rosy as they swiftly made their way over to his home, the fresh snow crunching underneath their boots and glittering in the light cast by the few lanterns.

By the time they had arrived, Jonah was shivering in his coat and was somewhat miffed to notice that Mordechai seemed wholly unaffected by the chill; not even a hint of a blush on his face. Jonah grumbled to himself as they entered, having their coats taken. He rubbed his hands together and blew on them a bit to warm up, noting that Mordechai was still standing in the hallway, casting a blank look over the interior and giving off the impression that he wasn’t really taking in the scenery all that much; he moved only when Jonah tilted his head at him and made a gesture inviting him upstairs.

As soon as they were away from prying eyes (or the next closest thing to that, in Jonah’s case), Jonah felt Mordechai’s hand on the small of his back, as if leading him up the stairs. It was a simple enough touch and yet it came so suddenly that Jonah couldn’t help but shudder a little and lean into it, realizing just how long it had been since he had enjoyed Mordechai’s company.

He had to restrain himself from sighing and leaning into the man himself, acutely aware of how much he wanted to hide his face in the crook of his neck and stay there for however long he’d be allowed to; and the very fact that it was something he craved in the first place annoyed him so he acutely ignored the impulse.

They walked into his study, Mordechai’s hand still guiding Jonah, which seemed a bit embarrassing once he had gotten himself under control. So he finally shrugged his hand off and twirled around to face the man as soon as they passed the threshold of the room, not even bothering to close the door.

“It has been a while, hasn’t it?”, Jonah’s melodious voice rings out between the two of them, preventing whatever staring match they were about to get into. The pressing matter of Barnabas weighs down on the atmosphere and yet remains unspoken. Jonah simply goes through the motions of hospitality, pouring some port wine for both of them and handing Mordechai a glass, letting the silence permeate the room. 

He knows it’s one of Mordechai’s favorite games, if not displays of power, to make the person feel utterly alone even when in company, terrified of saying the wrong thing and being judged by his sharp eyes. Jonah doesn’t play along. He smiles politely at him and clinks their glasses together, making sure to stare directly into his eyes as he takes a sip. He’s well aware eye contact can be just as deadly a weapon as silence and it’s one that still easily takes its effects on Mordechai. He seems to get even tenser and sets down his glass without bothering to taste the wine; quite rude, Jonah notes. He had spent a lot of time picking it out. 

“Jonah-”

“Mordechai,” he cocks his head at him, interrupting with a barely suppressed smirk on his face, letting him know that this play-pretend at proper manners is nothing more than that - a play. Mordechai furrows his brows; a look which would probably seem intimidating to anyone other than Jonah. 

“Jonah,” he enunciates his name more clearly now, apparently not enjoying whatever it is the smaller man was trying to pull.

“You have been quite busy with other endeavours, isn’t that right?”, he keeps his voice steady, completely impassive and yet Jonah’s smile drops right off his face and that split second of shock and hurt almost makes Mordechai smile in turn. 

“I never said you weren’t welcome here as well,” they haven’t broken eye contact and yet Jonah seems a bit more reserved all of a sudden, like the revelation that the little game he had played might have any consequences was utterly unexpected. 

“Is that so? How… accommodating of you,” every word that leaves Mordechai’s mouth is always carefully chosen and the meaning that’s carried behind them makes Jonah bristle at the insinuation.

“If you had any complaints about how I had been treating you, you are cordially invited to share them with me now,” Mordechai continues as he fixes Jonah with a stern gaze even if prolonged eye contact with him makes him somewhat squeamish. 

Instead of flinching away or even being intimidated by the displeasure obvious in his words, Jonah reaches for Mordechai’s hand and brings it close to his face, resting his cheek against it and the sickly sweet smile he gives him would make anyone roll their eyes. 

“Now I never meant to make you feel inadequate, my dear friend,” he croons as he laces their fingers together with over-the-top affection. “I would hope your feelings have remained intact after such blatant disrespect,” and the smug little smile is back on his face just like that, right where it belongs. The subtle jab about Barnabas had caught him off guard and he didn’t appreciate being surprised. At least it confirmed his suspicions that it was possible to make Mordechai jealous, even if it ended badly for some of the people involved. 

The blatant attempt to regain control of the situation does make Mordechai raise a brow at him and yet he doesn’t respond. He simply leans in and watches as Jonah’s breath hitches and his eyes search Mordechai’s to figure out his intentions. To his credit, he doesn’t flinch when Mordechai’s fingers card through his hair, making quick work of the ribbon tying it together. It gently falls to the floor and Jonah leans into the touch, almost letting his eyes flutter closed.

“My dear Jonah, what makes you think you could ever have such an effect on me?”, he accentuates his point by tightening his grip and pulling his hair, appreciating the small hiss that escapes him. 

What a blatant lie. Jonah would have had to be a fool to believe it. And yet, for a split second, he does and in the instant when he has to hold back a small hurt noise, Mordechai kisses him, his nails scratching against his scalp. Where kissing Barnabas was gentle and filled with too much affection, Mordechai feels much rougher, their teeth clashing and his beard scratching Jonah too much for his liking. 

He stands up on his tiptoes to fully lean into the kiss and feels his pulse racing when their tongues press against each other; he loses himself in the kiss for just a moment, biting at Mordechai’s lips a couple of times before he pulls back, pupils blown and breathing heavily. Before he leans in for another kiss, he shoots a worried look over Mordechai’s shoulder at the open door behind them. It’s likely he’d know if anyone was getting close but he doesn’t want to risk getting caught just because he allowed himself to get distracted.

He’s about to take care of the matter entirely by closing the door but before he can even take one step forward, Mordechai’s hands are pushing down on his shoulders and he sinks to his knees on instinct without even a word of protest. Only a second after does the action register and he feels a deep flush on his cheeks as he hisses at Mordechai.

“Someone’s going to see, you impatient fool,” he grits out through his teeth, pointedly ignoring the shiver up his spine as Mordechai moves his hand to rest on the back of his head.

“I’ll make sure to keep quiet then,” and a rare, if too self-satisfied, smile lights up his face as he unbuttons his trousers slowly. Jonah huffs at him and, losing his patience, bats his hand away and makes quick work of the remaining buttons, finally getting his fingers around his cock. 

He does his best to ignore the burning sensation of humiliation deep in his chest, knowing how easy it is for him to lose whatever resolve he’d managed to build up as soon as he comes face to face with Mordechai. It’s infuriating but at moments like these, when he’s on his knees and well aware of what’s to come next, he figures he can allow himself just this one weakness. 

Seeing as both of them are far too eager to get started already, he strokes Mordechai’s cock a couple of times before licking at the head, pressing his tongue against the slit. The stretch of his lips around his cock is thrilling and he has to actively hold himself back from trying to take him in all at once. 

Instead he makes sure to relax his mouth around his length and swirl his tongue softly against the underside of his cock. With one hand wrapped around the base, he slowly sinks his mouth onto him and tries his best not to drool around it. As soon as he feels it reach his throat he holds still and lets his mouth fall open just a little bit wider and sucks around him. Mordechai’s size is always impressive and the feeling of it heavy on his tongue makes him squirm a little and his eyes flutter closed. 

The whole time, he feels Mordechai’s fingers in his hair, occasionally gripping tighter whenever he hollows his cheeks. He’s so focused on bobbing his head up and down that he’s startled when the man’s hand moves to stroke at his jaw and grip it. Barely enough time to even pull back, Mordechai thrusts into his mouth properly and Jonah practically squeaks when he feels it choke him and his hands fly up to rest against Mordechai’s thighs. He whines around him and looks up at the man with a scrunched nose and an accusatory look but Mordechai doesn’t seem to mind as he starts to fuck himself into Jonah’s mouth, appreciating the way his hands clench into fists against him and he whines again, drooling around him. 

He keeps it up for a few moments before pulling Jonah completely off him and the smaller man gasps loudly for breath, a string of saliva between his mouth and Mordechai’s cock and some drool down his chin.

“I seem to recall you saying something about keeping quiet?”, he quips and Jonah fixes him with an angry stare, wiping at his mouth. He bristles when Mordechai’s dick lightly slaps against his cheek, smearing some precome and drool on it. He seems quite keen on continuing this and Jonah, with a stirring feeling of petulance in his chest, refuses to give him such satisfaction this early on. 

“I fail to see how that was necessary,” he grumbles at him and hopes his cheeks aren’t as flushed as they feel. He rises from his knees quickly enough and dusts his trousers off in a very formal manner, acting as if he didn’t still have a hint of tears in his eyes. He casts another worried look over Mordechai’s shoulders and assures himself that no one passed by and noticed the unsightly scene of Jonah on his knees with the cock of his main benefactor stuffed down his throat. 

He doesn’t grace Mordechai with another response, silently appreciating his surprise at the sudden interruption, and instead maneuvers around him to head to his bedroom instead, where he won’t have to worry about getting caught. The only courtesy he extends is sparing a glance over his shoulder to make sure the man makes himself look presentable before motioning for him to follow.

He barely makes it a couple steps past the door to the bedroom before Mordechai’s on him again, like the short walk between the two rooms was the last straw that wore his patience thin. He feels his hands wrap around his waist from behind and he twirls around to face him, hardly containing a smile. 

He leans up to kiss him again and lets himself sigh into it, tangling his fingers in Mordechai’s hair and appreciating the quiet moment between them as their mouths press against each other surprisingly chastely. When Jonah pulls back, he doesn’t hold back his smile anymore. Mordechai hurriedly unties his cravat and Jonah’s hands fly up to unbutton his shirt, silently appreciating how worked up he seems to be and pressing his leg between Mordechai’s thighs to appreciate how hard he is against him. He huffs a bit at that and pulls at Jonah’s hair as if to chide him.

His movements seem impatient, like he actually missed him and Jonah takes no small amount of joy in seeing the man worked up in any way. It seems as though absence does make the heart grow fonder - although fond was never a word that particularly fit Mordechai. His brows are furrowed and his hands a bit jerky when he hurries to undress both of them and Jonah lets a little laugh escape him. Mordechai fixes him with a questioning look, apparently unable to find the comedy in his impatience after being teased just once. 

“You do tend to be so much rougher, Mordechai. I assure you nothing terrible will happen if you pace yourself,” he smirks and loops his arms around his neck. 

Mordechai stares at him, the question “Rougher than who?” never making it past his lips and yet very clear in the thinly veiled anger in his eyes and Jonah grins properly. How easy.

“Maybe you’d appreciate a lesson in patience, my dear friend?”, the grin is even audible in his voice. He leans up to kiss him but stops himself right before and lets their breaths mingle for a second before pulling back. It’s highly amusing to watch Mordechai’s expression shift from confusion to frustration and he reaches for Jonah’s wrist to hold him in place but can’t say anything before a finger is pressed to his mouth to shush him.

“Hands off, Mordechai! I doubt the lesson will sink in if you get what you want, right? I implore you to simply stand here, watch and get that eagerness of yours under control,” he is clearly enjoying himself far too much but to Mordechai’s credit, he does let go and simply watches as Jonah situates himself on his bed, making sure to take his time as he strips the rest of his clothes completely and searches for a little vial of oil he tends to keep nearby.

Being watched is something he is spectacularly good at and he delights in knowing that each of his movements is studied closely and picked apart. He knows how to act, how to position himself, what noise to make when he is being observed and so he arches his back slightly and, sitting down fully on the bed, starts working himself open. 

It comes so naturally to him and he is hyper-aware of the set of another eyes on him. It feels right and that sensation is even better than the feeling of slowly sinking down on his fingers, adding more whenever he feels stretched open enough. And as focused as he is on being watched, on the warm comforting affection of being known, he loses himself in it too much to remember that it’s Mordechai who’s standing right next to him and breathing faster than before.

When Jonah’s eyes close as he adds yet another finger and curls them, he can see himself bent over on his bed, fucking himself slowly from behind with his chest flushed. He can see his hair ruffled and falling into his face, his partially open lips and it’s incredible. To watch himself like this through the eyes of another. 

His fingers slide inside him again almost automatically and he shudders slightly but the moan that escapes him is caused more by this new way of looking at himself. It feels right, like he’s meant to be viewed this way. It feels like he’s made to simultaneously watch and be watched and the realization almost makes him shiver. He can’t get enough of it, he wants to keep observing, to see his every move, to study his every breath, to look into his own eyes through the set of another.

And yet he’s rudely interrupted when Mordechai walks over all of a sudden, apparently disturbed, and wraps his hand around his throat, gripping him tight enough to almost ruin the experience. He lets out a little choked gasp and yet still watches his own mouth part open in surprise. It’s only the sharp sting of Mordechai’s hand across his face that makes him stop whatever it was that he was doing and his eyes flutter open in shock, one of his own hands coming up to brush against the fresh mark on his cheek. He feels an unpleasant stirring at his chest at being interrupted.

“I believe I have had quite enough of your little act, Jonah,” he sounds like his frustration has only magnified, as planned, but there’s a tinge of something else in there, like that little display of power had actually shocked him. It had surprised Jonah too and yet neither of them seemed keen on addressing it, though the painful mark on his cheek was definitive proof that it had happened. He didn’t have that much time to dwell on it seeing that Mordechai pushed him down and got onto the bed alongside him, taking in the sight of a still flushed Jonah while still holding a firm grip on his neck.

“Are you even aware how insufferable you are? I have waited for you for quite some time while you were trifling around with meaningless distractions,” his frown deepens and he hovers over Jonah. 

“I have no clue what you are trying to prove by acting like this but I think we are both well aware that you’re the impatient and overeager one here,” now he wraps his fingers around his throat tighter and Jonah’s hands fly up to grasp at his forearm on instinct, though he makes no move to pull him away. He flushes an even deeper red and squirms against his grip; the only sound which escapes him ends up being a pathetic wheeze. 

He gasps for breath as soon as Mordechai’s grip loosens and tries to move closer, rolling his hips against him. He manages to let out a whimper before he’s choked again and he hates how much he enjoys it and how needy it makes him feel. This time he grabs at Mordechai’s chest and tries dragging him closer, the rush of blood to his head making it hard to focus.

“Say, do they all know how you like to be treated? How pitifully excited you get when I do this?”, Jonah barely has time to catch a breath between each question and he finally has the ability to whine Mordechai’s name when the man is done speaking. He all but scrabbles on top of him and kisses him, their noses bumping each other since Jonah barely has enough presence of mind to act like he’s not affected anymore. He grinds his hips against Mordechai and moans, the sound muffled by their kiss. Now Mordechai is the one to pull away from him, bearing a somewhat patronizing smile, though he still cradles his face.

“You make it quite easy to prove a point, my dear friend. Don’t you think you should be getting your own impatience under control instead?”, he asks and almost laughs when Jonah shakes his head, wearing his look of feigned innocence.

“Liar,” he hisses into his ear and cherishes how the smaller man squirms against him again.

“Though you should count yourself lucky that I don’t fancy making you wait this time,” he flips Jonah over with ease and lets out a short laugh when the man squeaks in surprise. He tries to position himself as comfortably as he can, on his elbows and knees, as Mordechai maneuvers him around. He lets out another moan when Mordechai spanks him a few times, his rough hand kneading at Jonahs’s ass and he arches against it, burying his face in his pillow to hide his face.

“Why don’t you say please and I will take the utmost care to ensure you enjoy yourself, hmm?”, he muses from behind him, scratching lightly at the marks he left and watching how Jonah trembled under his ministrations.

“In your dreams,” he spits out, barely lifting his face up off the bed before sinking back down and wiggling his hips a little. As much as he enjoyed giving in and letting himself be manhandled, he wasn’t going to willingly give up that last shred of dignity he had left so easily.

“I did think you would say that,” he doesn’t sound the least bit disappointed, his tone impassive, and roughly grasps at Jonah’s waist, adjusting his position so he’s properly on his hands and knees for him with his ass in the air. Jonah is very glad he had put on such a striking show preparing himself as Mordechai doesn’t wait for a response.

He spreads Jonah’s cheeks and thrusts into him unceremoniously, stretching him open and pushing in until he bottoms out. The smaller man grips the sheets beneath him as tight as he can and lets out a low moan, trembling as he is so thoroughly filled. He mumbles a curse or two into the pillow and squeezes around Mordechai’s dick, drawing out a groan from him which goes straight to Jonah’s cock. The hold on his hips tightens and he can already feel bruises forming, utterly delighted with the thought of being marked for longer than a couple of hours. Mordechai wastes no time before setting a harsh pace, fucking into Jonah without much regard for his comfort, rather focusing on his own pleasure. He scratches his nails down Jonah’s back and watches the marks bloom as the man under him shudders, struggling to match his thrusts. 

Jonah reaches one of his hands downwards, already desperate to touch himself, but Mordechai snatches his hand up before he even gets close. He ends up holding both of his wrists in one hand above his head and stills inside him for a second, pinning him down while he struggles for a few seconds. 

“Not yet,” is all he hisses in his ear as he picks up the pace again, driving into Jonah’s prostate with ease, well-accustomed with exactly how to touch him to make him moan unashamedly. And sure enough, the smaller man arches his back and gasps with pleasure, letting himself focus on nothing but the feeling of being full, split open and claimed. 

He grinds back against Mordechai and clenches around him, delighting in whatever groan he can drag out of him. Through lidded eyes, he turns his head to watch Mordechai try to maintain a steady pace, his hair clinging to his face with sweat. Despite his exertion, his hands still feel terribly cold on Jonah’s skin as he grips his waist even tighter, his own hips missing the pace slightly. 

Jonah grins at him and lets a quiet moan slip when their eyes meet, the intensity of Mordechai’s gaze making a shiver run down his spine. He tests the grip on his wrists, trying to tug his hand away again but doesn’t get anywhere with the man just tightening his hold, drawing out a pained hiss from Jonah. He renews his struggle when Mordechai drives into him at a particular angle that makes his toes curl and a whine drag out of his throat.

“Mordechai,” he grits his teeth. “Touch me already.”

“Ask nicely.”

“Screw you,” the venom dripping from his voice catches Mordechai off guard and Jonah wrenches one of his hands free. Mordechai doesn't bother grabbing him again, simply fixes him with a disapproving look and starts to thrust into him once more, knocking him slightly off balance as Jonah shifts his position to wrap his fingers around his leaking cock. 

A deep satisfaction blooms in his chest at winning this particular power struggle and he sighs into the sheets as he finally strokes himself, shivering slightly as Mordechai’s dick presses deep inside him, the thrusts getting slower and deliberate; a telltale sign that he was getting close as well. They keep at their own pace like this, not bothering to say anything anymore as if the sudden shift in tone from Jonah turned it from one of their more playful games to something more rough.

A few moments later, his hair is gripped and pulled tight enough to bring tears to his eyes and with that surge of pain, he comes into his hand and over the sheets, moaning loudly and closing his eyes, feeling the orgasm wash over him in a wave. In that instant, Mordechai pushes him down into the mattress, one hand firm on his back and another stroking his stomach in an oddly tender move which makes Jonah tremble, already beginning to feel like it’s all too much, his head in a slight haze. 

The way he pushes into him now is much more cruel than before and he feels like a groan is ripped out of his chest when Mordechai grips and fucks him like it makes no difference who’s underneath him. Jonah squirms against his hold but makes no move to get him to stop even when the drag of his cock makes him more sore with each thrust. He lays there, sheets bunched up in his fists, and does his best to hold back any whimpers whenever his oversensitive dick drags against the covers, smearing the come against both his stomach and Mordechai’s hand.

He feels the mattress dip on his left side when Mordechai leans in and bites down on his neck, drawing out a yelp. Jonah tightens around him with the pain and Mordechai groans, teeth and tongue still on Jonah’s neck, marking him in a way they hadn’t ever agreed on. The smaller man bucks underneath the weight but his limbs feel like jelly and he ends up slumped down, shivers when Mordechai licks at the bitemark. 

Neither of them say a word as Jonah squirms, trying not to let the overstimulation get to him, the feeling of being used so roughly making a heat pool in his stomach again. And yet when he would normally be enjoying it, the atmosphere hangs between them heavy and sickly, like whatever pretense they had going on before was broken all of a sudden when Jonah refused to play along with his teasing. So to make up for it he puts on his act, performs the way Mordechai likes it when he bares his throat and lets his eyes flutter closed and his mouth hang slightly open, trembling around him with breathy whines filling the room.

In a couple moments, Mordechai lets his forehead rest on Jonah’s shoulder and he comes deep inside him, his hips stuttering and coming to a stop as he fills him up and Jonah’s moan, intermingling with Mordechai’s, is anything but fake this time. He’s breathing heavily with the other man’s weight still on his back and grimaces when he unceremoniously pulls out, leaving him feeling far emptier than when they started. 

Unable to keep his arms up, Jonah slumps over on the bed and tries to steady himself, ground himself and sort out his thoughts now that he can focus on anything but overwhelming sensations. He’s surprised to feel a tear trickle out of his eye and down his cheek, staining his pillow and he blinks the rest away, turning over to face Mordechai who seems more out of sorts than Jonah, almost laying down as well. His wide chest is rising up and down faster than usual and some of his hairs cling to his forehead. How human, Jonah considers, and the sight almost mitigates the bitterness at the back of his throat. 

They sit in silence for a while, each trying to get themselves under control. Jonah’s mind almost instantly turns to the concerns he was faced with when they first arrived here and while guilt is a foreign concept to him, his sight still wanders and he finds himself looking at Barnabas just that easily. 

When they face each other, Mordechai doesn’t meet his eyes but he leans over to trace a finger on the glaring bitemark standing out against the paleness of Jonah’s skin. His hand is batted away with irritation and instantly Jonah’s thoughts are far away from here again, eager to watch another spectacle, observing desperation mixed with hopelessness, slender fingers running over the spine of a dusty book yet leaving no mark on it. 

It did take his mind less than a few seconds to wander off somewhere else and yet he sits up and pulls Mordechai in close and kisses him chastely. His lips are cold, like the rest of him, but the sensation doesn’t distract him from what’s important, from what he’s meant to be observing. As he lazily licks into Mordechai’s mouth, their hands tracing patterns on each other’s bodies, he commits every detail of someone else to memory, every freckle and curl and look of despair. He lets his actions speak for him, for his bitterness and appreciation equally as he intersperses each tender lick with a harsh bite. 

When he finally pulls away with his arms still loosely draped around Mordechai’s neck, his eyes are shining and there’s a small smile on his lips.

“Thank you,” he mutters and knows he doesn’t need to specify what he’s referring to. With each new scene, new tidbit of information he feels more complete and as they hold each other like this in a rare moment, he knows how fulfilled Mordechai is as well. How much they both benefit from this loss, even if some of the reasons are more superficial than others. The bitemark on his neck pulses in pain and serves as a reminder. Each of them lost in their little world, Mordechai’s gaze blank and his presence already fraying at the edges and Jonah’s eyes glittering, appreciating this unique gift. Perhaps, it _is_ better to leave the matter of Barnabas unspoken. Just for now.

**Author's Note:**

> find me @ blitzstones.tumblr.com or @ discord on chuuya#5158  
> send me jonah prompts i've got. a whole lot of thoughts


End file.
